


we win some and we lose some

by whoopsydaisie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester is a good brother, Gen, Guilty Sam Winchester, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, sam's like. not having an easy time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19471231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoopsydaisie/pseuds/whoopsydaisie
Summary: Sam isn't taking care of himself.  Dean, however, has always taken care of Sam.





	we win some and we lose some

**Author's Note:**

> i rly love sam winchester but he's a rly sad character and like...i just want dean to give him a hug and tell him that everything is gonna be okay (since i can't do it).

It starts with insomnia. It continues into not eating, and then ends up with Sam being sick from not taking care of his body, and yeah, Dean's had enough, but Sam isn't letting him help. Sam, as usual, won't let Dean help - especially not lately. It doesn't matter how many cooking attempts Dean makes in an effort to encourage Sam to eat or how much classical music he plays in an effort to get Sam to fall asleep, Sam just won't budge. Instead, Sam sits lethargically at the table and stares at the wall while the bowl of cereal he poured two hours ago grows soggy and disgusting.

"If you're not going to eat it, don't pour it. Cereal-waster," Dean had joked. Sam had just looked up at him and then looked down at the bowl like it was his first time noticing it.

Dean chose not to mention the fact that he hasn't seen Sam pour a bowl of cereal since.

Sam doesn't _always_ starve himself. Sometimes he eats and Dean will pretend he doesn't notice how Sam will push his food around to make it look like he's eaten more than just a few bites. It wouldn't help the situation if Dean pointed out another odd thing Sam was doing - if anything, he was afraid Sam would stop eating altogether if Dean mentioned it. Dean was very afraid of his little brother. No, actually, Dean was afraid _for_ his little brother. 

So, like any logical older sibling would, Dean asked for help from another source. He asked Castiel if he could do anything to help the situation. Castiel cocked his head and walked directly up to Sam. Before Dean or Sam could do anything, Castiel placed his fingers on Sam's forehead and the gangly man promptly fell asleep.

"Cas! I said help, not knock him unconscious!" Dean had protested.

"I didn't 'knock' him, I simply forced him to rest. Dean, he hasn't slept in over three days and before that, he only took short, unplanned naps. He needs this."

Dean had reluctantly agreed, and then with strength that surprised him, picked Sam up (mostly - Castiel had had to pick Sam's feet up near the end when Dean's arms began to shake from the weight. "Wow, Sammy, you need to lay off the- actually, don't. Please don't.") and brought him to his bed. He tucked Sam in like he was nine years old again, and left the room.

"Okay, Cas - what's wrong with him?"

"It seems Sam is depriving himself of basic needs."

"Yeah, intellectual, I noticed that myself. Any idea why he's deciding he's above human needs?"

"No."

"Very helpful."

"Dean," Castiel began carefully, "you have to understand, I can't tell you what's wrong with Sam without either digging into his mind or asking him personally. I doubt he'd appreciate me invading his thoughts without permission. I can tell you, however, that it would be prudent to make him eat more. He's lost both weight and muscle."

"Oh my - Cas, Cas, am I letting him die on me? Is he dying and I'm just, I'm just not doing a thing to stop it? Again? Cas, you need to tell me what to do because if-"

"Dean!" Castiel exclaimed while putting a hand on Dean's shoulder (when had he begun pacing?). "You need to calm down; Sam isn't dying. He's not at his healthiest, but he isn't dying. He should be okay, he just needs to rest and eat more."

"What if I can't force him to? He has a fever, Cas, and-"

"You can't force him to. Your persuasion skills, however, have proven effective time after time regarding Sam. Have you asked him what's upsetting him?"

Dean hesitated and then shook his head. It had occurred to him to ask Sam, but he didn't want to make things worse. Now things were pretty bad and Dean was wishing he had at least gave Sam a shot - hindsight really is 20/20.

"Try asking him when he wakes up - it should be about four hours," Castiel said before disappearing.

"Well, thanks, feathers," Dean muttered while pulling a chair next to Sam's bed. He grabbed Sam's copy of _The Two Towers_ and settled in for the next four hours.

\--------------------------

"D'n?" Sam muttered almost exactly four hours later. He had sat up and was rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Since when do you like _The Lord of the Rings_?"

"Since my annoying little brother decided sleeping is for losers. How're ya feeling, Sammy?"

Sam gave a noncommittal shrug and fiddled with a string on his blanket. Dean watched him for a while. Sam clenched his jaw, blinked a few times, and shook his head. Dean heard Sam's stomach growl and his little brother winced.

"Want to eat something?" Dean asked casually.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Not hungry."

"Your stomach disagrees, big guy."

"My stomach can shut up."

They studied each other for a long moment. Sam eventually looked down at his hands and Dean took that moment to stand up and sit beside his brother on the bed.

"What's bothering you, Sammy?" Dean asked while carefully prying one of Sam's clenched hands apart and holding it open. There was blood on his palms. Sam had _clenched_ _his hands so hard that he had begun to bleed_. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Yeah, but I want to, so you kind of have to. Those are the rules. You always want to talk about feelings, but when _I_ want to talk about feelings, that's when it's serious and we actually have to. So come on, spill. Why aren't you taking care of yourself?"

"I am!"

"No, you-"

"No, I, I really am, Dean. I'm doing exactly what needs to be done. I'm treating myself exactly how I deserve to be treated," Sam took a deep breath, and Dean knew it was game over. Tears slipped down Sam's face as he continued. "I deserve this. I keep, I keep letting people die. People keep getting hurt - you, Cas, people that shouldn't have to deal with the supernatural. I should be taking care of it, but I'm not, and people, they, they end up getting hurt and I'm not stopping it! Why aren't I stopping it?" Sam whispered this last sentence and he pressed a bloody palm against his eye.

"Sammy, you do stop it. We can't save everybody - we never have been able to. Why is this bothering you all of a sudden?"

"Because nothing works, Dean! No matter what we do, things always come back, they always hurt more people!"

Dean paused to consider this. It's true, things did frequently reappear. You can't expect killing one vampire to mean killing them all, and this rule applied to nearly all of the things they dealt with. It always had. 

"Is this about Lucifer?" he asked quietly. Sam heaved in a quiet, shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut as more tears leaked down his cheeks. "Okay," was all Dean softly answered before he pulled Sam into a hug.

Sam's chin fit perfectly against Dean's shoulder, just as it always had. Dean put a hand on the back of Sam's head and carefully ran his hands through his hair. He felt Sam grip the back of his shirt in what he recognized as a desperate attempt to get Dean to come closer. Dean's shirt was wet. The room would have been perfectly quiet were it not for Sam's shuddering breaths as he tried to keep his crying quiet. This was one of the many skills a certain John Winchester had made them learn over the course of their childhoods. Dean sometimes hated their dad.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's-I don't know why I'm like this," Sam sniffled and tried to pull back, but Dean wouldn't let him.

"Oh, Sam," was all he said as he used the hand that wasn't in Sam's hair to rub his back. They stayed like that for a few minutes until Sam's stomach protested once again. Sam let out a quiet, wet laugh and they both pulled apart to look each other in the eyes. 

"Sammy, listen," Dean began. "I understand. Really, I do. It's frustrating and especially with Lucifer coming back _again_ -"

"What if he comes back, again, Dean? Will he always come back?"

"Sam..."

"I'm scared. Dean, what if next time he gets to you? What if he gets Cas? What if he gets someone and I can't stop him _again_! He's my responsibility, and-"

"No! No, he's not your responsibility. The whole world is not your responsibility. It never was. You deserve as much peace, and food and _rest_ and happiness as anyone else. You're not responsible for what happens to everyone on the planet, and yes, sometimes problems will keep coming back, but that isn't your fault. There's a lot of bad in this world, but there's a lot of good and I gotta say, you're one of the good things. Don't blame yourself for what other people do or what happens to everyone. Sometimes we win some and sometimes we lose some, but that's just how it is."

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but one look from Dean had him shutting his mouth. Sam sighed slowly and seemed to collect himself. Dean smiled fondly at him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, I'm proud of you for all you do. Now come eat some food before I whoop you."

"I love you, too, Dean," Sam laughed while following his brother into the kitchen.

It was going to be okay.


End file.
